Broken
by Bad Faery
Summary: In trying to help her, he broke her beyond repair. After Todd's fall from the roof, Marty learns more about herself and their shared past as she slowly starts to put the pieces of her life back together. x Tarty x
1. Chapter 1

Marty's lips parted on a silent scream as she watched him fall, realizing that until that very moment, she hadn't believed he'd actually do it. His words of love meant nothing; they were just another way to manipulate her; he didn't actually _mean_ them.

"Todd?" she whispered, leaning over the edge of the roof, her eyes searching the dim landscape for some trace of him. Far below, she heard a splash and the rushing sound of the river.

Could he swim? Was the fall alone enough to kill him? How far up were they anyway? She took several steps towards the stairs, her left leg buckling from the stress. She caught herself on the edge of the door frame, resting her face against it for long moments, knowing there was nothing she could do. Even if she'd been in the peak of health, there was no way she could get to the river fast enough to do anything for him. For all she knew, he was already dead.

Her eyes filled with tears, her breath coming in harsh gasps. Todd couldn't really be dead, could he? He was too evil to actually die. Feeling suddenly lost she made her way back to their room at the Palace, gathering her belongings robotically, leaving no trace of herself behind, just like she'd planned.

There was commotion outside as she left the building, and it took all of her strength not to join the crowd, to try to find out what had happened to him. Any power she'd had over the situation was long gone, and she'd be no more than a face in the crowd and an instant suspect if anyone connected Todd's fall to her suspicious presence.

Instead she went home, her body far colder than was justified by the chilly Pennsylvania air, feeling like the central focus of her life had been ripped out from beneath her.

* * * * *

She winced as she stepped into her bedroom. The house was dark and deserted, and she would have bet anything her absence hadn't been noted until she saw the tangled piles of her research covering her bed, her journal open on the floor. She'd been discovered.

Hastily she started gathering the printouts together until she had a neat stack, a physical record of every evil thing Todd had ever done. All the evidence was in her hands. He was the scum of the earth, a user and a villain who'd made her his latest victim.

_"What am I? Chopin?" he joked as she tried to get him to unclench enough to rest his fingertips against the keyboard. Despite the tension in his fingers, beside her his body was loose and relaxed, the faint smell of his cologne pleasant in the air as they laughed through their duet._

_His hands on her arms brooked no argument as he coaxed her to her feet for her first steps. The hope and pride and confidence in his eyes was enough to give her the courage to try to hold herself steady. "I'm not going to let you fall," he promised her._

Her eyes opened, but suddenly all she could see was the moment where he let himself go, plummeting through the air at her insistence.

_I'm not going to let you fall..._

_I won't let you fall..._

"No, no, no, no, no..." she muttered, her fingers groping for the television remote. She had to know. Surely it would be on the news by now, with the crowd outside the Palace. Surely someone would be reporting on the incident.

"...former acting police commissioner John McBain pulled Manning from the river and performed CPR until paramedics arrived on the scene. Manning was taken to Llanview Hospital where he is currently in serious condition."

Hands shaking, she switched the television back off, relief arcing through her. Her world, which had been on the verge of spinning off its axis, slowed to a normal speed. Todd was still alive.

She told herself that she was relieved because his survival meant she wasn't a murderess. Even she didn't believe it.

Once again, she gathered up her research, adding a box of matches to the pile as she crossed to the bathroom. Kneeling beside the bathtub, she carefully started to burn the papers a few at a time, praying she didn't set fire to the house.

Somehow she succeeded and in less time than seemed possible, she was left with nothing but a pile of ashes that were easy enough to wash down the drain. If only she could wash her treacherous feelings away as neatly.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, she dressed for bed, for the first time not surrounded by Todd's image as she climbed beneath the covers. It didn't matter. Behind her closed eyelids she could see him clearly; she could read the agony in his face as he realized why she'd asked to meet with him.

"I'm not sorry; I'm not," she whispered fiercely into her pillow. Todd deserved everything she could do to him and so much more. He didn't love her. He'd been playing with her feelings from the start.

Or had he?

He'd said he'd do anything for her. And when she called his bluff and told him to die for her... he had. Or at least tried to. Were those really the actions of a man who didn't love her?

"I hate you, Todd," she hissed, relishing the familiar surge of anger that accompanied the words. She hated him for lying to her. She hated him for manipulating her. Most of all she hated him for making her love him.

Because, God help her, despite everything, she still did.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up was a disappointment because it meant he'd let Marty down once again.

"You're going to be all right, Mr. Manning," a voice told him, and he wanted to curse with frustration. He didn't want to be all right. Marty had asked one thing of him, one simple thing, and he'd failed her.

"What happened, Manning?" another voice asked, and this one was familiar. John McBain. Of course. The man was everywhere.

"Jumped," he managed through a throat that felt like he'd swallowed a glass of gravel. Dimly he realized his teeth were chattering so hard he was barely intelligible.

"Jumped or pushed?" the ex-cop asked, his voice monotone, as though the thought of an attempted murder was slightly less interesting than cleaning the grout in his bathroom. Then again, when the potential murder victim was Todd Manning, it probably was.

"Jumped," he insisted, remembering those heartbreaking minutes leading up to his fall all too clearly. Marty had been angry, so angry with him, and all he wanted to do was make her happy again.

"What was Marty doing there?"

At the sound of her name his eyes flew open, and he struggled to sit up, finding himself being easily pushed back down on the gurney, "Marty? Is she all right?" He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyesight to focus. Marty hadn't wound up in the river too had she? Her strength could have given out, sending her plummeting after him. He craned his neck to try to look around the small, curtained-off area, seeing nothing. "What happened to Marty?"

"I didn't see her," McBain informed him, "Just her purse in your room. That's when I heard shouting outside and came to fish you out. I'll ask again. What was she doing there?"

Todd relaxed slightly as he decided she must be safe. McBain was nothing if not protective of Marty. If there was even the slightest chance she'd been in trouble, he wouldn't have thought twice about letting Todd drown in order to save her. For a moment, Todd nearly liked the other man.

McBain had asked him a question, he realized, and was waiting with ill-concealed impatience for the answer. He couldn't tell him the truth. Marty had been through enough, and she'd be devastated when she found out he'd survived. She didn't need to deal with nosy ex-cops asking her questions. "Tricked her into coming. I wanted her to leave town with me. She said she wouldn't go."

McBain rolled his eyes, "Jesus, Manning, you're still trying to get her to run away with you?"

"She hates me," he admitted, his voice hoarse and ragged as he finally admitted to himself what he'd been trying to deny for weeks. "There's no point."

"So you decided to jump off the roof?" He wasn't sure what to make of McBain's tone of voice, but someone was inserting a needle into his arm, depressing a syringe of liquid fire that left nothing but haze in its wake.

"That's... right..." he mumbled before he knew nothing more.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly as he found himself lying in a dark, quiet room; the muffled sounds of a hospital at rest filtered through the closed door. Somewhat nearer came the nonchalant noise of someone else making himself at home, not particularly caring if he woke the patient up or not.

"Marty?" he asked hopefully, knowing before he said a word that she wasn't in the room. She wouldn't be inclined to come anywhere near him so soon after their encounter on the roof. Not unless she'd come to finish the job. The thought cheered him up slightly. Death wouldn't be too bad if it came at her hands. He'd wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.

A harsh, mirthless laugh greeted his question. "No such luck," it growled, and he tried to force his eyes to adapt to the dim light. Without warning, the overhead light snapped on, and he winced, his eyes watering as he tried to focus on the figure standing over his bed.

He took in a roughhewn leonine face surrounded by a mass of dark tangled hair. Smoldering eyes glared down at him, set off by the scar curving across the right cheekbone.

With a groan, Todd squeezed his eyes shut, praying the vision would be gone the next time he opened them.

"Nope, still here!" the figure grinned, waggling his fingers in a mock-threatening gesture, "You look like shit."

"Oh my God, I'm crazy," Todd muttered numbly, watching as the figure lost interest in him and prowled the room. His attention landed on a tray of hospital food, and he eagerly snatched up a few pieces of turkey with his fingers, popping them into his mouth. "I actually went crazy."

"Probably," the figure told him around a mouthful of food.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, and the figure rolled its eyes.

"I'm always here. I'm you, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Not anyone," Todd denied, pushing himself into a seated position, "I'm not that Todd anymore."

"You certainly got prettier," the other Todd agreed with a smirk, cramming another piece of turkey into his mouth, "Usually."

"That's not what I meant," he snapped, "I mean I'm not like you anymore. I'm not that person. I changed. Marty changed me."

"She doesn't seem too happy about it," his alter ego pointed out.

Todd winced at the reminder. He'd done everything wrong with her; he could see that now. Yet, what else could he have done? If he'd brought her directly to Llanview Hospital when he found her, he wouldn't even have had those few months with her. Her family would have immediately told her who he was, and he wouldn't have been able to get near her. This was better, wasn't it? He'd let her see the man he really was, the man he could be with her guidance. Maybe someday she'd remember that man and give him the chance to earn her forgiveness.

"Did you really expect her _not_ to kick your ass?" the other one continued philosophically when he didn't respond, "I mean, this is _Marty_ we're talking about."

"I thought she'd understand. I did it for her."

"And for you."

"For us. So we could have a life together," he defended, "I made her happy. She loved me."

"Not anymore," the other Todd said gloomily, before brightening up, "We could always kidnap her again."

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked in disbelief. Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but it was hardly practical under the circumstances. Marty wouldn't like it, for one. Plus, it wouldn't be too hard for anyone else to figure out who'd taken her.

"You're the one carrying on a conversation with yourself in the second person," his alter ego pointed out.

"Well, what am I supposed to call you?" Todd demanded.

The figure grinned. "I'm Ali Baba, the genii of the hospital room."

The name brought memories flooding back. "That wasn't that creative the first time. Oh, you fooled a couple of kids. Hooray."

"I did a hell of a magic trick though," he- Ali, Todd reluctantly named him- reminded him, "I saved them all."

Marty had looked so terrified when she'd seen who'd come to check out the car crash. Yet, despite it all she'd allowed him to care for her. Was it too much to hope that she'd give him the same chance again?

"Can you do another one?" he asked warily.

Ali gave him a long, considering look. "Marty just talked you into jumping off a roof, and you still want her back? Doesn't say much for your sanity," he concluded.

The tone made him bristle. "You would have done the same thing, he pointed out in a tight voice.

Ali nodded immediately, "Of course I would have. It's Marty."

"You'd do anything for Marty," he admitted reluctantly.

"_We'd_ do anything for Marty," Ali corrected him, "Always have, always will."

"Not quite always," Todd said quietly, and Ali sobered, turning away from him.

"No. Not always. Not enough."

Todd was beginning to hear noises filtering through his consciousness and realized he was starting to wake up. At the foot of his bed, Ali's figure looked strangely transparent. "Are you coming back?"

Ali looked at him in surprise, before grinning wolfishly. "You really think you're going to get rid of me this easily? Wherever you go, there you are."


	3. Chapter 3

_The feel of a hand pressed against her mouth jerked Marty out of a troubled sleep, and she struggled to sit up, her breath coming in frantic pants as she struggled to find the breath to scream._

_"Shhhhhh... Lie still; don't say anything. It's just me." Her muscles relaxed slightly as she heard Todd whispering to her, wondering why on earth he thought that hearing that it was 'just him' in her bedroom would calm her down. As she slumped back against the mattress, she wondered why it had worked._

_"What are you doing here?" she whispered, torn between screaming for help and simply yanking the covers over her head and pretending that this wasn't happening._

_"I have something for you," Todd say in a conversational tone, tugging an armchair closer to the bed before dropping into it with a wince._

_"Are you all right?" She closed her eyes as she asked the question, appalled at her own stupidity. It was simple force of habit that prompted her, she told herself, not any real interest._

_"Cracked ribs," he answered succinctly, reaching into his jacket for whatever it was he claimed to have for her. Probably a gun, she decided, wondering why she wasn't trying to get away from him. She'd tried to kill him; he was going to kill her, and the only thing she felt was tired. It was as though she simply didn't care anymore._

_"Here," he pressed a metal oblong into her hands, and she looked down at it, straining her eyes in the dark to figure out what he'd given her._

_A few moments of fumbling awarded her an answer, She jumped as she managed to free the straight-razor blade from it's protective sheath, flipping it open in an awkward motion. Whatever she'd been in her past life, apparently she hadn't been a street fighter. Considering all she'd learned about herself lately, that was almost a relief._

_"Are you going to kill me?" She was surprised by how calm she felt at the idea._

_"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, extending his hand to her with his palm up. "Since the jumping off the roof thing didn't work out so well, I thought you might prefer this."_

_She recoiled, her hand tightening around the hilt. She couldn't see his expression, couldn't read his eyes, but she knew his tone, that open, honest tone that had earned her trust almost instantly._

_Not that he'd deserved it._

_Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what his game was this time. "You... you want me to kill you?" she stalled, her voice shaking._

_His shoulders moved in what looked like a small shrug. "That's what you said you wanted. If me dying is what it takes to give you peace... do it. Kill me, Marty."_

_"You're not serious," she denied, looking behind him to see if there was anyone else waiting in the shadows, Tea perhaps, ready to arrest her for attempted murder. No matter how hard she looked, she saw nothing._

_"Saying I'd die for you is worthless if I'm not willing to actually do it." He leaned closer, holding his bare wrist out insistently, "I have nothing left. I've lost you. I lost my children. What do I have to live for? If you want my life, take it. Do it, Marty."_

_His voice was low, hypnotic, and her lips instinctively parted as he leaned into her, only inches separating their mouths. "You know you want to. Go ahead, Marty. It's okay. Kill me."_

_She shuddered at the prompting, shaking off his seductive tone as she dropped the razor onto the bed. "Get out," she breathed._

_"Marty..." He picked up the razor, trying to pressed the hilt into her hand, his breath escaping him in a sound of frustration as she clenched her fingers into a fist. Reversing the motion, he flipped the blade around in a practiced move, bringing the blade to rest against his own forearm. "Would you rather I do it myself?"_

_"No!" It was a strangled shout, and almost instantly she heard footsteps rushing down the hall._

_"Mom?" Cole's voice filtered through the closed door._

_"Get out," she hissed, jerking her head at the open window that had facilitated his entrance into the room. Without thinking about it, she grabbed the razor out of his hand, shoving it under her pillow, unwilling to risk the thought of him going ahead with his plan. "Now!"_

_For a heartbeat, he didn't move, then he abruptly got to his feet, ducking out her bedroom window in the same instant that Cole slammed into the room, hitting the switch to bathe the room in light that seemed impossibly bright. "Mom?"_

"Mom?" Cole's voice was insistent, and she blinked her eyes open in surprise, "John McBain is here. He wants to talk to you."

Glancing around the room in confusion, Marty caught sight of the solidly closed and locked window. A dream. She'd been dreaming. Sitting up in bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, working out the knots. "Send him up."

"Mom..." Cole watched her retrieve her robe, tying it firmly around herself. He looked worried about her, she realized, and she wondered if she should say something to reassure him. Before she could think of anything, his jaw tightened, and he turned on his heel, leaving her alone.

Marty sat down in one of the room's armchairs, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Todd had thrown himself from the Palace roof for her, although he'd survived the suicide attempt. He'd been willing to die in order to make her happy. Was it possible his feelings for her were real?

She sank back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. If they had been real, they certainly weren't anymore. She couldn't imagine him still loving her after she'd tried to kill him. She should be happy about that. It made for one less tie between the two of them.

Before she could decide why the thought made her want to cry, John's voice interrupted her. "Good morning, Marty," he greeted her, taking a seat in the chair opposite hers, "I suppose you heard that Todd Manning tried to commit suicide last night?"

Unable to find her voice, Marty simply nodded, not sure what to say. There was something businesslike about John's voice that made her suspect this wasn't just a call to see how she was handling the news.

"Cole was worried when he came home to find you missing," he went on, and Marty could feel herself going pale. That meant he was the one who'd seen her research and her journal. Even worse, he'd apparently told John McBain everything. Todd, no doubt, would have been eager to explain exactly what she'd done to him. A wave of anger washed through her. Had she really traded her gilded cage at Todd's house for the more prosaic bars of Llanview's prison? Even attempted murder was a crime.

"Next time, leave a note or something, would you, Marty?" McBain went on, "He just got you back. He's afraid he's going to lose you again."

There seemed to be some kind of message buried in the words, but Marty was too anxious to figure out what it was. She nodded, and he went on.

"Manning told us what happened," McBain told her carefully, "How he tricked you into joining him at the Palace and tried to talk you into running away with him. How he decided to commit suicide when you told him how much you hated him."

She looked down in confusion. Todd had told him that? After her double-cross, he absolved her of any blame?

John leaned closer, his voice intent, "That's right, isn't it, Marty? That's how it happened?" he prompted her, something in his tone encouraging her to agree.

"That's how it happened," she confirmed softly.

"Sounds like case closed to me," he declared sitting back easily, "After all, you both have the same story, and there's nothing around here to prove otherwise."

His last words were pointed, and her eyes flew to his face, her face flushing in embarrassment. He'd seen everything. All the papers, the diary, all of it. He had to know Todd was lying, yet he was willing to let her get away with it. Relaxing slightly, Marty waved her hand, encompassing the entire room. "You can search the room if you'd like," she told him, trying to let him know that she'd rid herself of the evidence of any crime.

A faint smile crossed McBain's lips, "That won't be necessary. I'm not a cop anymore anyway. Just a friend." He glanced around the room with satisfaction before rising, "Take care of yourself, Marty. You don't have to think about Todd anymore. You can concentrate on the things that are really important."

He left as abruptly as he'd come, leaving her lost in thought, pondering his words. Could it really be that simple? Was it possible to just forget Todd? To forget that the last months of her life had ever happened and move forward? Was she strong enough to do that?

'You've already come through so much,' she heard Todd's voice in her mind assuring her. He'd been talking about her rape and her current amnesia, but the words were no less true for all that. She was a survivor; everyone said so.

Yet, she didn't feel strong. She dressed mechanically, taking John's advice and leaving a note on her bed- Went for a walk, back soon- on her bed for Cole as she made her way down the back staircase. Her leg ached and the exercise would do her good. Perhaps the brisk January air would help to clear her head.

"New year, new me," she murmured to herself as she left the house, wandering in what she thought was the direction of the river, not allowing herself to ponder why she'd chosen it as a destination. Todd was in her past now, and more than anything, she just wanted to forget.

The sound of an engine drew her out of her turbulent thoughts, and she glanced up to see a motorcycle glide to a halt beside her. The driver removed his helmet, revealing a handsome, painfully young man who was looking at her with interest, but no real recognition. "Need a lift?" he asked.

"Do you know who I am?" she answered his question with one of her own.

The young man's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Should I?"

Marty found herself smiling in reply. What a relief it would be to be with someone, just briefly, who wasn't expecting anything from her, who wasn't constantly searching for traces of a woman who no longer existed. "Perfect," she announced, covering the few feet between them quickly and throwing her leg over the bike, holding on tightly as he gunned the engine, sending them flying down the road.


	4. Chapter 4

Ali was an excellent confidant once you got past the smirking and rudeness, Todd decided. Then he remembered he was carrying on a conversation with his own subconscious and decided to give up on that train of thought. At least it was better than brooding.

"If you could change one thing, just one, what would you do?" he asked the other one curiously. His life was in such an utter shambles that he couldn't pinpoint any single moment that would have changed everything. To him, it seemed like he'd done nothing but make one mistake after another, and they'd all piled up, resulting in nothing but destruction.

To his surprise, Ali looked away, his eyes going cloudy and unfocused for a long moment before he reluctantly turned his attention back to Todd. "I'd stay," he said finally.

The short sentence gave him no clues as to its meaning. "You'd stay? Where?"

"With Marty," Ali explained, his voice sounding far away, "That first night, the very first night when she asked. I'd stay."

That night, that first time with Marty, was something Todd strove not to think about. It was just another reminder that no matter what, all he did was hurt her, and it had been that way from the beginning. Yet in the grand scheme of their relationship, it was such a small thing. "Would that really have changed things?"

Ali picked up the remote, pointing it at the television, "I'll show you." He clicked on the screen, and Todd blinked, only vaguely surprised to see himself, a much younger version of himself, standing awkwardly beside a door he remembered well. Slowly the camera panned to the right, and Todd swallowed the lump in his throat as it crossed the expanse of bed, revealing a disheveled, emotional Marty.

"Oh no," he said softly, unable to look away from her devastated face, "Not this. Not again."

"Watch," Ali commanded, "Just watch."

* * *

"Will you stay?" There was a quavering note in Marty's voice, something between arrogance and pleading, like she hated herself for asking the question.

Todd looked helplessly at the door, his stomach curling at the outpouring of emotion. What had he gotten himself into? This wasn't the fun-loving Marty he'd been with earlier. Her hair was a mess, and that was his fault because he'd been running his hands through it. The thought made him feel guilty.

"All right," he found himself saying, wondering where the words were coming from. Without conscious volition, he found himself sitting down stiffly next to her on the bed. Marty seemed to relax slightly at his movement, but he could still hear her panting. "You don't want to... _talk_ do you?" he asked with dread.

"No. Let's just sit here and stare at each other," Marty replied sarcastically, and this step towards normalcy helped tremendously.

"All right, fine, we'll talk," he said grudgingly, then held a finger to her face in warning, "But if you expect me to start saying poetry or something, I'm out of here."

"Like I'm going to believe you know any poems," Marty scoffed.

"I know plenty," he retorted.

"Prove it."

"I will!" he snapped, falling neatly into her trap, "There once was a man from East Kent-"

"A limerick?!" she exclaimed in disbelief, "Limericks don't count."

"You wanna hear this or not?" he challenged, starting again, "There once was a man from East Kent./ Whose tool was so long that it bent./ To spare himself trouble/ He bent it double./ And instead of coming, he went."

There was a long, long silence, and Todd felt something akin to embarrassment rising in his gut. Just as he was about to say the hell with it and get out of there, the silence was broken by a most unladylike snort.

Marty collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, laughing hysterically. A small smile crossed his face, and he put his arm around her to keep her from toppling over. "There once was a man from Rangoon..."

*

He admired her trim figure, enticingly clad in short red dress, then approached the pinball machine. Stopping just behind her, he watched her game, cautioning her as he saw the ball starting to slip lower, "Use the right one."

Startled, she jumped, taking her hands from the machine, and he quickly reached around her, trapping her body between his own and the pinball machine as he saved her game. "Always keep your eye on the ball," he scolded her, grinning as she slipped her hands back in place, underneath his.

Taking advantage of the position, he nuzzled her neck, frowning when he heard her reprove him. "Todd..." She glanced back meaningfully over her shoulder at the bar where Suede was washing glasses.

"Oh, come on, Marty," he rolled his eyes, "Give it up; you're too good for him."

"I'm too good for you too," she reminded him, but she didn't push him away.

"Yeah, but it's a more even playing field." He pressed his luck and caught her earlobe between his teeth, feeling her shiver.

For a moment she stood in his embrace, then turned, saying regretfully, "Not every thing's a game, Todd." Ducking beneath his arm, she left him there staring after her.

*

"Ask Marty."

"I don't want to ask Marty," he sulked.

"But she's good at this. If anyone can get you to pass, she can."

"I'm not asking Marty!"

"Todd?" her voice reached him from the door of the frat house, "Powell called me."

Shit.

*

"Well?" Marty stopped in front of him, staring down at where he was sitting on the bench.

"I didn't look yet." His entire future rested on the number on that board, and he couldn't bring himself to look.

"You must have passed," she assured him. "You could do the problems. I saw you do them."

"You look," he requested, glancing over at the board, then back to her.

She held a hand out to him. "We'll do it together." Pulling him to his feet, she led him to the board, running her finger down the list of names until she came to his. "Todd Manning," she read aloud as both their eyes found his score.

"What?" he asked in disbelief at the failing grade.

Marty dropped her purse, her face growing pale. "But... how...?"

"I failed," he said blankly.

Suddenly, Marty exploded, kicking her purse into the wall, the contents spilling everywhere, "What the hell?! You _knew_ this stuff! It's not fair!"

"I'm off the team," he mumbled, barely able to process what had happened.

"No, you're not!" she shouted, attracting a few stares. She bent to pick up her purse, shoving her things haphazardly inside, before straightening and grabbing his arm, "You're going to go talk to him. He's going to give you a retest, and I'm not letting you sleep until you can recite those formulas backwards!"

Keeping a firm grip on him, she started off towards Professor Nader's office, nearly shoving him inside once they reached the door.

To his credit, the professor didn't actually laugh in his face at the demand, only sat back, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "If you haven't been able to understand calculus for the past four months, what makes you think you'll be able to understand it in less than a week, Mr. Manning?"

"I've got a tutor, Marty Saybrooke. She's helping me."

The professor's eyebrows climbed higher at the mention of Marty, "I'm sure she is."

The man's ironic tone didn't register at first. "So, if you just give me a few more days, she'll help me, and I'll be able to pass the test."

"Why should I? Unless Miss Saybrooke is offering to 'help' me as well..." he trailed off, his lurid meaning becoming clear.

"Son of a bitch!" Todd swore, coming around the man's large desk, "Marty ain't like that!" He raised his fists, rage overwhelming his common sense.

*

"You _hit_ a _teacher_?!" Marty's voice rose with disbelief, as she paced back and forth in front of his holding cell, "I can't _believe_ you hit Professor Nader!"

"He had it coming," he muttered.

"Just because he wouldn't let you retest? Todd, you're going to get expelled!" She whirled around to look at him, her mouth moving as she groped for something else to say.

"It wasn't the retest," he clarified, leaning against the bars and closing his eyes; watching her was making him dizzy.

"Then _what_?!" she resumed pacing again, "How could you hit a _teacher_?"

"He said something about you," he admitted.

"About me?" she stopped, looking at him curiously, "What'd he say about me?"

Todd chose his words carefully, "Let's just say there was a price for the retest."

Marty's eyes went wide as his meaning registered. She went pale for a moment, then her face softened, a faint smile curving her lips, "And that's when you hit him? Oh, Todd..." Reaching up, she cradled his cheek, pulling him down so she could kiss him through the bars of his cell. He relished it, the first kiss they'd shared since their night together. Then suddenly, she broke away, turning on her heel, calling over her shoulder as she ran out of the jail, "I'll be right back!"

*

"You're free to go, Manning," the cop announced, unlocking his cell door. Ignoring him, Todd looked past him to Marty, who was leaning in the doorway, wearing a smug smile.

"Nader dropped the charges. And your retest is scheduled for Monday."

He caught her arm, hustling her out of the jail. "What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently, and he stopped dead on the sidewalk as a hideous thought occurred to him. Jerking on her arm, he forced her to face him, running his eyes over her body suspiciously, "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" she squirmed in his grasp, going still as she figured out what he meant. Her face filled with disgust. "Todd! Please. Like I'm going to sleep with him just to get you out of trouble."

He felt a bit stung at her protest, but mostly he was just relieved she hadn't debased herself in that way. "Then how'd you do it?"

With a wicked smile, Marty fished a micro-cassette recorder out of her purse and clicked it on. The grainy sound of Professor Nader's voice filled the air, "You want to get your friend out of trouble? Let's see what's under that pretty little dress of yours."

"Asshole," he muttered, anger once again filling him as Marty switched off the tape.

"I told him that if he didn't drop the charges against you and let you retest, I was going to play this for the dean." She dropped it back in her purse and smirked up at him.

Grudgingly, he had to admit he was impressed. "You should've had him change the grade instead of making me retest."

"Would you like to go back to jail?" she asked sweetly, resuming the walk back to the university.

"You're hell on wheels, Marty," he told her, catching up quickly and slinging his arm across her shoulders. He grinned when she didn't shrug him off.

"You're welcome, Todd."

* * *

On and on it went. Todd watched, fascinated, as he and Marty schemed and flirted and fought and made up. The only trauma at the Spring Fling was the shoving match he and Suede got into when the bartender crashed the party to spend a little too much time moving in on Marty.

"Is this really what would have happened?" he asked Ali, seeing his alter ego shrug.

"Who knows?" Ali retorted, "But it's a hell of a lot better than what _did_ happen."

"Can you send me back?" he asked, wondering just what Ali was capable of.

"What? You think this is _It's a Wonderful Life_?" Ali snorted. "Do I look like an angel to you? I'm _you_, idiot. You're dreaming in case you forgot."

"I think I'd rather stay asleep," Todd murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers against the TV screen, touching the glowing pixels that comprised Marty's smiling face.

"No can do," Ali shrugged, as he dimly heard another voice calling his name.

"Todd? Todd! Wake up!"

"Go away, Tea," he muttered, irritated when he found himself opening his eyes anyway, Ali and _The Wacky Adventures of Todd and Marty_ long gone.

"They're discharging you today," the lawyer informed him. "Don't you want to come home with me, Todd?" she simpered, stopping just short of batting her eyes at him.

"No."

"Tough shit. Get dressed. We're leaving." She tossed a pile of clothes onto the bed next to him, watching with unconcealed impatience.

Tea, he decided, had the worst timing on the planet.

* * * * *

Author's Note: I find myself so tempted to keep playing in the universe Ali showed Todd in this chapter. Would anyone be interested in reading a "what-if?" story starting with the premise that Todd stayed with Marty that night?


End file.
